


Strangers in a Strange Land

by AceQueenKing



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, King Alistair, Loghain Mac Tir Dies, Loyalty, outcasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12780045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: There is little of home left in the world, but Anora and Cauthrien find what's left in one another.





	Strangers in a Strange Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gamerfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/gifts).



Anora went out onto the Veranda on her Orlais' courtyard, trying not to spill the burning tea that was still held in her hands. It was odd, she thought, how long she had had servants make her tea and had never thought of the hassle involved in it. The scalding water, the burning cup. She felt a momentary guilt when she thought of it. So much of her old life had been different, considerations for someone, somewhere else, so far from her mind. Her life in Ferelden seemed further and further away; now that her father was gone, and Alistair was on the throne, Ferelden even felt like a different place, a place she could not call home.

"My Lady," Cauthrien said, bowing deeply, as she stepped out onto the veranda. The Orlesian air was cold, biting at her skirts. If Cauthrien felt it in her armor she did not show it; simply tilting her neck in concern for her charge.  "Are you at all unwell? You look...strange."  
  
"I'm fine," she said, sitting down on one seat in the courtyard table. Cauthrien sat down on the other. Cauthrien functioned as her shadow in Orlais, making her capable of going as far as she did as Celene's pet; thanks to Cauthrien, she did not have to bother much with the game, and the many factions of Orlais politics did not much bother with the Ferelden exile. She was simply a bauble held within Celen's grasp like so many others - though, unlike Celene's not-so-secret consort, Briala, she, at least, had a spear on her side. 

"You look troubled," Cauthrien said. She reached over, one armored hand pressing Anora's hand and squeezing it for reassurance. "What are you thinking of?"  
  
"Ferelden," she said; she did not say home, because it was not home, not any longer. She looked out into the breeze and felt a heavy chill in her hair - was it the Orlesian weather, reminding her of her place as an outcast? Or was it her father's ghost, wailing in her ears about how she has betrayed everything he fought for, everything he died for, while his murderer sits high on Cailan's throne? 

"Ah." Ser Cauthrien looked uncomfortable, no doubt because it was an issue that Cauthrien could not fix. It was the same pained look she had wore through most of their journey into Orlais, and their first meeting with Celene had proceeded much the same way, her face pinching especially hard when Celene had called Anora a beautiful rose upon a thorny vine. Anora had demurred, but Cauthrien had fumed.

"It is nice to have a bit of home with me here," Anora said, grasping Ser Cauthrien's hand and pulling it close to her lips for a soft, chaste kiss. They had often derived comfort from one another, though it was not something spoke of. In Orlais, relationships, Anora found, were more fluid, the words so often unspoken. 

"I will be with you as long as you wish, my lady," Ser Cauthrien said. Anora wondered if she heard the same cruel whisper of the wind, and wondering what her father, so long dead now, would think. 

"And if I wish you to stay forever?" Anora said, raising an eyebrow.

"Aye, that too." Ser Cauthrien got up, offering Anora her arm.

Anora took her hand and walked back toward the house, where there was warmth and light and Cauthrien, too, where they could find some shadow of peace together. 


End file.
